


Down On Luck

by 1800areyouslapping



Category: BioShock, BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha Series Big Daddy, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1800areyouslapping/pseuds/1800areyouslapping
Summary: Prompt: "Option 2 (3? if 2 actually sent but my wifi has been funky SO) Rapture scientists did some Questionable Shit to people. Down on your luck and more than a little desperate, you signed up to be a test subject- men would fawn over you and wouldn't be able to resist you! Except that's very much not how it worked, and you try to survive Rapture while being a more-or-less aphrodisiac pheromone factory,,, you'd think the Big Daddies would be immune in those diving suits, but you've been wrong before..."





	Down On Luck

Life’s always been rough, life continues to be rough. See… you’ve never had much money. Mommy and daddy didn’t make a lot and so you’ve had to make questionable decisions in order to survive. All you ever wanted was to be able to buy yourself one of them fur-lined coats all the glamorous ladies wear, get yourself a nice pair of them glossy high heels, be the bell of the ball. But you were to busy counting your nickels and dimes, just trying to scrounge up enough to be able to eat. 

In pursuit of a more lavish life, you wound up answering a flyer. Nice looking ladies, with nice hair, and nice jewelry were handing them out with nice smiles. The flyer promised good money. In exchange for that good money, you needed to take part in an experiment.  _‘Scientists and doctors of Rapture need young, healthy bodies to test out their new Gene Tonics!’_ And well… Gene Tonics and Plasmids were all the rage! Just the prospect of being able to try one out for free was exhilarating in itself. 

You’d come to regret the desperate act immensely. 

The wretched Gene Tonic made you physically irresistible to every damn Tom, Dick, and Harry that walked down the streets! It did NOT wear off like the docs had promised it would! How were you expected to live your life when even the cops didn’t simply want to protect and serve you, they wanted to put bullets in bodies so they could have you all to themselves! 

And that, well that was  _before_  the fall of Rapture. Now you have splicers, out of their minds. If you ended up in the middle of a pack of them filthy, rabid animals you’d be dead by the time they were done using up your body. You shiver at the thought of the female splicers, who all went mad trying to be beautiful. Trying to be–  _irresistible._  How they’d look glaringly at you with envy. Putting their trust in quack doctors, flooding their bodies with plasmids (you’re one to judge). Went and lost their sanity. Now they’d be thrown into a fit of blind jealousy at seeing you get used and abused, and would tear you limb from limb for making them feel so…  

…“WHORE! FILTHY STINKY BITCH!” one of the splicers shout. 

Your heart feels electric, thumping so rapidly it punches your ribcage and you feel every beat. Blood races through your veins and floods your ears. Every time one of them yells for you, your stomach churns bile and you may throw up. This was risky; scavenging farther than you normally would. Your cramped, booby-trapped safe haven was running out of food and drinkable water. Plenty seeps in through the cracks in this destitute, under the sea paradise but it’s all salt. 

The head male splicer leads his band of hostile followers. A group of them. The very last thing you would have been able to handle all on your lonesome. You cling to your wall making yourself as little and as stealthy as possible. Hiding behind a vending machine spouting boisterous sell pitches to no one who cares.  

“Come out, come out,” one of them croons, saccharine. “Here kitty, kitty…” Out of nowhere, but not surprising, the man is full of rage. He slams, what you assume is a led pipe, against the floor. A horrible and shrill sound echoing all throughout the farmer’s market. “FUCKING COME OUT!” he shouts. “STUPID SLUT… making this so hard, so hard on me!” he wails out with a sob.  

All it took was one of them catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of their eye and the chase was on. A chase for sick pleasure and what is sure to be an attempted Adam harvest once they’re done with you. 

Metal scrapes against the stare case wall, footsteps stomp down the stares. You remain as still as possible. The area you’re in is flooded to about mid-thigh standing, your crouched and waist deep in it. If you move, even the tiniest bit, the water will ripple and give your location away to the splicer stomping like an elephant down the stairwell. You hear his ragged breathing, the water rippling as he steps inside.  

“Why are you hiding?” he grumbles. “Just tryna go steady with ya… probably whoring, whoring right now aren’t ya?”  

Now the splicer is standing in the middle of the room, not paying any mind to your corner. You can see him now and the sight of him is bringing tears to your eyes. You hold your breath, waiting for him to grow tired and walk away. 

All of a sudden, the vending machine comes to life. “ ** _HA HA HA HA_!** Hey! Yo tengo que dar de comer a mi familia!” It frightens both you and the splicer. You managed to remain quiet, but the splicer turned on the machine as if it was out to stab him in the back– and spots you.   

You try and bolt, but the water makes running difficult. The splicer is closer to the stairwell than you are, and easily catches you. He grabs a hold of your arm. Your legs turn into two useless wet noodles and you fall. You start screaming for help. Desperate for your life not to come to an end like this. Knowing there’s not a single kind-hearted, brave citizen left in Rapture. Full of madness the splicer shakes you for it, fingers digging painfully into your arm. You feel your bones aching, muscle pinching painfully in his fist.  

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” the splicer shouts as he brings his pipe down on the back of your head. You see stars. Stars, for the first time since you moved into your home, and what would inevitably be your coffin, under the sea. The stars give way to darkness and you pass out… 

…When you wake utter chaos is raining down around you. Screaming, crashing, explosions. You’re exhausted, your skull is ringing. It takes you too long to understand the terror that is happening mere inches from you.   

“ALPHA SERIES! Scatter! Naughty! Naughty! We’ve been naughty!” a woman splicer screams in horror– “Please! No! NO! DADDY, I’M SO SORRY.” 

Your eyes snap open– Alpha Series…  **ALPHA SERIES**. You didn’t think you could possibly be more terrified. Here you are, laying on the floor, so wrought with muscle locking fear, you can’t move.   

Unlike all other Big Daddies– your Rosies, your Rumblers who are massive and deadly… but docile giants, so long as you’re not an idiotic, addicted splicer out to mess with their precious Little Sisters –Alpha Series, a rare and dying breed, will attack and kill anything and anyone on sight. 

At least this death will be quicker. Brutally made into a lifeless pile of meat like all those around you. You hear the awful dying gurgles, choking on blood. Sick cracks of bones– backs breaking as they’re tossed like a pile of bricks against unrelenting walls. The Big Daddy howls out its anguish, a booming sound, it reverberates off the walls, and another splicer dies with a horrible scream. 

The ground shakes as the hulking monster stomps towards you. Those damned splicers must have injected you with something. You’ve suffered your fair share of hits to the head, none of them kept you on your back for long. However, as the Alpha is fast approaching and you can’t seem to lift your arms or your legs. You flex them, feel the cold metal beneath them– you’re not paralyzed. It’s that your limbs are so heavy. You lift your arm and it plummets right back down to the ground, you’ve got no strength left.  

Suddenly he’s towering over you. His massive drill arm dripping with gore. You close your eyes tightly and brace yourself for the rev of its engine… but the rev never comes. You open your eyes slowly. Pealing them open one by one. Find that he is just standing… staring at you… maybe he thinks your dead. 

But then the flat rubber over his crotch starts to expand out into a grotesque looking bulge. 

“Oh no,” you whine. Your body reacts to the situation that has just dawned on you. If there is one good thing the Tonic did for you it was forcing your body to react to men and their growing cocks, so that your curse doesn’t have to equal pain. Though there are plenty of other ways this Tonic could land you in a world of pain; you’re staring up at the face of pain and terror right now.  

You’re in really bad condition and yet your body is producing slick so fast it soaks your underwear. That damn Tonic has got its priorities all out of whack… or maybe it doesn’t. The perpetually angry Alpha isn’t gutting you with its drill or flinging your useless body so hard it fatally breaks. Instead, he’s groaning. One long-winded whale-like sound. The Big Daddy gropes his crotch, just like any other man getting ready to release his seed into some poor woman. He drops down to one knee, using his drill to support his weight. Cups your face with the one hand he has in a near… tender manner. No one you’ve ever come across has quite been affected by your irresistible pheromones or has quite reacted like this. Usually too wide-eyed, burning, to be any semblance of soft. Though you don’t miss the way his chest still heaves. Fevered breathing, he must be filled to the brim with adrenaline.

He flips up your old and tattered dress, revealing quivering legs, wet underwear, and damp inner thighs. Staring at the blank face of a rusted and barnacle-clad diving helmet lends you no clues. He smells like the sea: slight sulfur, a pinch of green and brine. What is going on in this scientifically altered monster’s head? Does the tortured man know that you’re fragile? Could the Alpha understand that his massive python uncoiling in his diving suit may be too big for you to take? Would he care if he was aware? 

“Oh, God! Please, no!” you gasp and press your butt down to the floor as the beast above you inserts the very tip of his drill into the hem of your underwear. Panic, thinking he’s going to turn it on and ram the thing into you. All he does is turn it on a touch, just long enough for it to whir once and tear your panties clean from your hips. 

The Big Daddy looks down at his own body, figuring out how to free his weighty hard on (ultimately choosing to brute force it, ripping the rubber, and freeing it.) As he does so, you remember a tidbit of information the doctors and scientists had prattled on about. Talking as if you were too poor and stupid to understand a thing that they were saying. But what you gathered from all their talk was that the Tonic was derived from the same science they used to bond Little Sisters to their Big Daddies, and vice versa. You’re hoping and praying hard that fact might mean the hulking beast won’t dispose of you once he’s done using you. 

You swallow a hard lump at the sight of his length. Thick, veiny, and kind of off. Bulbous around the middle, big round balls, leaking pre unlike you’ve ever seen before; obviously another part of him affected by experimentation. Enlarged like the muscles that make him so terrifyingly strong. He grabs a hold of your waist. Effortlessly, he lifts you and your core kicks into overdrive, warming and melting from deep within. 

He’s lining you up with his cock and it’s now when you start to panic. You felt the struggle it was to get him wedged between your glistening pussy lips. It’s going to be a very snug fit. You try to relax. It seems he’s going to take it slow, so maybe you can endure and live to tell about it. 

But then he spears you down on his cock. Every bit of his tip, every inch his meaty girth shoved inside you at once. You couldn’t say testimony to whether or not it seared through you, the fire that lapped at your walls as he grossly stretched you open, you passed out from the shock…

….When you wake the Big Daddy is using you at his leisure. Pumping you up and down as if you were his own fist. It takes a moment for you to really feel it. Really feel how deep inside you he is, how quickly you’re taking him in, and the puddles of slick you’re producing to accommodate him. You crane your neck to get a look at your body doing more than you ever thought it could. A fist-sized bulge appearing just above your navel with every brutish thrust.

Your lower half is just an amalgamation of tingles, both soft and sharp. The soft ones allow you to breathe and the sharp ones make your whole body tense and steal the air. You find your stolen voice when he forces you all the way down to the hilt. Crying out as the bulge reaches new heights. Your psyche can’t make heads or tails of what’s happening to you– one moment it feels like you have died and Heaven’s in your cunt– the next you’ve died and this feels like Hell, endless and unforgiving.  

Your body becomes too tired, too used for you to bother to try keeping up. You let your head loll back and your arms dangle. The more broken in you become, the more your destitute sobbing becomes punched out, pitiful moans. At least one person, is for certain, enjoying themselves– and that’s Big Daddy, groaning in ways no one in Rapture has ever heard before. 

You’re shivering all over, tummy convulsing, not sure what time it is or whether you’re truly alive or dead by the time he stills and empties his balls into your raw and aching insides. Overflowing you with his cum. It seeps out of you, flowing in thick lines back down over his taut sack. With one last flex, he detaches you from his cock. Just feeling him pull out is enough to reawaken you. You moan out like a cheap whore as the mass of pressure leaves, and you’re left gaping and leaking years of pent-up seed. 

The Big Daddy throws you over his shoulder, making it clear that the mysterious creature has no intention of leaving you for the vultures. You can already feel the Tonic working to restore your thoroughly broken in pussy, your walls throbbing and clenching uncontrollably as it does so. Oh, how you wish you would have thrown that tempting flyer in the trash. 

_“With Dr. Powell’s, science-backed Miracle-Erotic-Tonic on your side! You’ll be irresistible! And each time will feel like the first time! Come on in, make some quick doe, and try Dr. Powell’s Miracle-Erotic-Tonic, today!”_


End file.
